When Somebody Loved Me
by IDoItForLovin
Summary: When somebody loved him, everything was beautiful.
1. When Somebody Loved Me

_(A/n: This is a sequel of a story I wrote ages ago called 'Bucky's Dimple. It was my favorite honestly, and I have been asked for a long time to write another chapter. Well here you go, very short, only about seven chapters but I hope it provides closure to the story.)_

 _When somebody loved me_

 _Everything was beautiful_

 _Every hour spent together_

 _Lives within my heart_

The summer heat burned into Valencia's skin as she made her way to her destination. She was dressed cooly in a sundress and sandals and her hair was off her shoulders and in a small ponytail at the top of her head. On her shoulder was a large tote bag and in her hands was a pie.

The young Fury was currently in DC on vacation; she figured she had earned one after all the trouble she had been put through, and she was staying in her old studio apartment from when she was a young Howard student. The space seemed to be smaller than she remembered, but it was no less homey.

She walked down the steps of the metro and pressed her card against the sensor, sliding through the turntable. Then, she stood on the platform and waited for her train. As the doors opened, her phone began to ring in her tote. She took a two person seat and sat by the window, placing her things beside her, then she pressed the screen of her Stark-Phone.

"Hey, Stevie." She teased with a smile.

Her boyfriend chuckled on the other line, "Hi Valencia. Enjoying your vacation?"

"God, more than you'll ever know." Valencia sighed in content, glancing out the window. "How's stuff at home? Holding down the fort father time?"

"As always, kind of hard to do without my best girl." Steve muttered and Valencia beamed, not bothering to hide her large grin in front of strangers.

"Don't try to butter me up, Captain. I told you to come with me, this could have been a retreat for the both of us." She said, biting her lip.

"Yeah, but if one of us isn't here everything would fall apart." Steve reminded her. Valencia groaned and Steve tsked, "Don't pout, Lena."

"How did you know?" Valencia muttered, inconspicuously looking around the train.

"I know ya."

"Oh do you, now?" The Fury questioned.

"Pretty damn well, I'd say."

"Watch your mouth!" Valencia mocked with a smile.

"I wish you were here to watch it for me."

"Yeah, well…" She trailed, as the robotic voice of the train informed her of her destination approaching, "My stop is coming up, so I gotta go 'Rogahs'." She imitated his accent, "Don't snap ya cap without me."

Steve chuckled, "That's not even remotely correct, Valencia." He informed her before muttering, "I love you."

"I love you, too." She cooed back sweetly before hanging up. She put her phone back in her bag and shouldered it, then grabbed her pie. The train came to a slow stop and she got off, walking up the steps of the train station.

When she was exposed to the sun once more she grimaced; it was way too hot to be outside. But she had an obligation, one that she was going to be late to if she didn't hurry. Her sandals slapped against the steps as she took two of them at a time. She opened the large door and walked to the receptionist desk, checking in.

Valencia got in the elevator and pressed the top floor, waiting for her level patiently. She stepped out of the lift and her legs already knew where to go. She knocked lightly on the white door of room 2342, before opening it with a large smile.

"Valencia Renee, ya late!" An elderly woman snapped playfully, a scowl on her dimpled face. She was dressed in a white nightgown and her hair was silver, curly and pined away from her face. Her skin was the color of copper and her eyes were the color of chocolate. Her dentures were white and her face was kind. Her wrinkled face told of her wisdom though the indents in her cheek spoke of an eternal youth.

Her name was Darla Lorraine Barnes and she was ninety-four years old. She was from Brooklyn, New York and she wouldn't let you forget it. She had an older sister named Roselyn, but she had died years ago, and she had a nephew named Abe. She was old, but smart as a whip. She used to be a nurse, so she would give her aides hell. They couldn't be mad at Darla Lorraine though, not with that smile.

"I'm sorry Ms. Darla." Valencia sheepishly apologized, setting her things down. She rolled the side table over to Darla's bed and placed the pie on it, "I brought a peace offering."

"I told ya ta' stop with all that, 'Miss' mess. Makin' me feel a hundred, girl I'm only 94!" The copper woman snapped with a wink. "Now how'd ya make this? Tell me all the steps 'fore I take a bite."

Valencia laughed and did as she was told. She visited Darla everyday that she was in DC, she was like a pseudo grandmother to her. She had met Darla about a year ago, she was a childhood friend of Steve's, and fell in love with the small woman. She would tell her stories of her life and they were fascinating. And on occasion, such as yesterday's visit, she would give her a recipe.

"Now this is a test, Val." Darla informed the young woman, scooping up a piece of pie, "If ya don't do this right, ya don't get anymore recipes. I'll be damned if ya walk around here tellin' people I taught ya how to cook with nasty food." She took a bite of the pie with narrowed eyes, before her eyes fluttered closed.

Darla Lorraine liked Valencia Renee. She was pretty, smart, and most of all she made Stevie happy. She wasn't a prying girl either, she knew when to stop asking questions. She was also very strong. Steve had told her how Valencia was the reason he had come to visit her so quickly, and for that she would be forever grateful to the girl.

"Well?" The young woman asked, her bright brown eyes on Darla.

"Perfect." The elder woman winked at her, "Just like my mama's. I guess ya can have my cookbook, but don't show nobody!" She reached over and picked up her book of recipes, handing it to Valencia.

Valencia took it with a huge grin and put it in her tote bag, before settling next to Darla again. The dimpled woman smiled and reached out to pinch her cheek. "Ya just so pretty, Valencia Renee. I used to look just like ya, ya know. I was a little thing with a big behind. Jamie couldn't-!" Her smile faltered a bit and she folded her hands over her lap. "The boys couldn't keep their eyes off me."

Jamie was Darla's husband, he had died in the war. But the thing was that he didn't. Darla's husband's name was James Buchanan Barnes and as Valencia had observed a few years ago he was very much alive. He just didn't remember.

Valencia couldn't tell Darla; her heart wouldn't be able to take it. Her husband was just as young as Steve and he had been alive this whole time, though he didn't remember the love of his life. That would hurt her too much. So every time Darla mentioned her 'Jamie', Valencia would just nod and smile.

Valencia just put her hand over Darla's and smiled at her. "Tell me about when you and Steve went out for Valentine's Day."

Darla snorted out a laugh and shook her head, "Well that was when he was a lot smaller, of course…"

Valencia watched her face dissolve from sadness into fond memories and she smiled, holding the woman's hand tighter. Nothing would ever hurt Miss Darla, not while Valencia was here. But of course, things never quite go the way we want them to.

At the end of the day, Valencia packed up her stuff, kissed Darla on the cheek and left the retirement home, armed with a new recipe idea.

The young Fury closed her eyes on the ride home, tired from the events of the day. She let out a silent yawn as her body was rocked by the motions of the train. Just as she was drifting off to sleep, her phone began to ring.

The rest of the train ride and all of the walk home was spent talking on the phone with her mother. The pretty woman scoffed as she unlocked her front door, kicking it closed behind her.

"Well I don't know where Dad is." She answered, exasperated. She kicked off her shoes and dropped her bag on the counter of her apartment, before plopping down her beige couch.

The apartment had been massively upgraded since she had stayed in it as a young Howard student. She had been able to actually purchase the studio apartment and the one next to it, allowing her to knock down walls and actually build up a pretty nice space. She now had walls, which was a huge improvement, and her bedroom was now the size of the one in the tower, allowing her to have a king sized bed and actual furniture. She expanded her kitchen to include an island and her living room now held a sizeable television and designer furniture donated by a very generous boyfriend. All of her electronics were Stark Industries as a thank you from Tony.

"I'm not sure what Maria has to do with this conversation…" Valencia trailed, a hand rubbing at her temple, "Well because she's nice." Her phone beeped and she held it away from her ear, seeing that Steve was calling. She breathed out a sigh of relief, "Mom, I gotta go. Captain's calling."

Her mother sputtered out words of protest but Valencia switched over the call, putting the phone down and turning on her television. A stream of Steve in their living room popped up on the large screen and she smiled.

"You have no idea how happy I am to see you, Steven."

Steve laughed, his eyes crinkling in the way they do, "Rebecca still asking about your dad?"

"You know she is," Valencia answered with a roll of her eyes, "She really thinks I'm lying about knowing where he is, I haven't even talked to him since he disappeared in the night like a damn ghost."

Steve chuckled and watched as she took her ponytail down and ran a hand through her hair, "How's Darls?"

"Fiery, full of spirit like she always is. She let me bake her a pie." Valencia snorted, making Steve smile.

"Really? Did she like it? I know she's picky about her mama's recipe."

The bronze woman nodded with a smug smile, "She liked it so much she gave me her book of recipes. Told me to bring her a new thing everyday."

"So you can make things that don't start with the letter 'S' huh?" Steve quipped cornily and his girlfriend snorted, "I'll have to try a piece when you get back."

"Or," Valencia added hastily, with a sinful smile, "You can come here and get something more than just my pie."

Steve chewed on his bottom lip for a second, "You know I would if I could-!"

"I know, I know. I'm sorry." Valencia looked away from the screen, she turned back to a crestfallen Steve. She sighed, "How's everyone else? Is Wanda getting any better on her mock missions?"

The captain nodded, cracking his knuckles, "She's gotten way better. I think we'll be able to take her out for a real one soon. Everyone misses you and says 'hi'."

"I miss them, too." Valencia whined playfully, "I feel like a mother being without her kids."

"Does that mean I'm the dad?" Steve questioned with a smirk.

"You're always the dad." The brunette snickered, taking a look at the clock next to her. "I gotta go make dinner for one, but I'll call you tomorrow?"

"Alright, Lena. I'll talk to you tomorrow, have a good night."

"I love you." Valencia cooed, blowing kisses to the screen.

Steve beamed at her and his cheeks tinted pink like they always did, "I love you, too." He replied with a wink, before the connection was broken.

Valencia sighed and drug herself up from the couch and into her kitchen. She looked through her fridge before deciding to order out for the night. She picked up the phone and got enough food for four people, then went to change her clothes.

She took off her sundress and threw it in the hamper before walking into her bathroom and starting the shower. She cracked the sore bones in her body before putting on her shower cap and standing under the water. She cleansed herself and put on a concert, before turning the water off and wrapping a towel around herself. She trotted back to her bedroom and dressed in sweatpants and a Howard U shirt. She yanked off her shower cap and braided her hair into two plaits.

By the time she was done, there was a knock on the door. "Finally, finally." She sung to herself, excited about her food. Her feet padded against the bare wood floors and looked through the peephole, seeing a man with bags in his hands. She unlocked the door and opened it, before grabbing her purse from the counter and taking out her wallet, "How much was it again?" The man raised his head and she looked up from the her wallet to see a very familiar face.


	2. And When She Was Sad

And when she was sad

I was there to dry her tears

And when was happy so was I

When she loved me

Bucky. That was his name and he was on a train. He was dressed in the same clothes he had driven from Brooklyn in. He was on a train with a black duffle bag that contained everything he owned. He sat on the train staring straight ahead, his face with the same expression it always held these days; a certain type of confusion and sadness.

The train stopped and the doors opened. A short woman with brown skin and brown hair walked into the train, her phone ringing in her bag as she took a seat.

Bucky sniffed the air and a scent wafted through the train right after the doors had closed, a scent that brought a memory to his mind and made his mouth water. Darla. Darla used to make pies.

His blue eyes shot to the woman and to the pie that now sat in her lap. He had seen her face before. He stared straight ahead once more and listened as she spoke softly into her phone.

"Don't try to butter me up, Captain. I told you to come with me, this could have been a retreat for the both of us." The woman said, biting her lip.

Captain? He narrowed his eyes and listened closer.

"My stop is coming up, so I gotta go 'Rogahs'." The woman spoke in a mocking Brooklyn accent.

Captain Rogers. Steve Rogers.

Bucky's eyes went to the woman again as she cooed an 'I love you, too' into the phone. That woman was the woman from the bridge. She was the one who had shot him to save Steve. That was Valencia from the letter.

He watched her gather her things and stand as the train came to a slow stop. He discreetly grabbed his bag and followed her out of the train, his head down. He followed her all the way to a tall building where he watched her walk up the stairs.

'VA RETIREMENT HOME'

Bucky reached in his jacket pocket and took out the letter, seeing the return address matched the one on the letter. Darla was in there.

The man took a few steps up the stairs before he halted, looking down at himself. He swallowed and put his head down again, turning and walking away from the home. He looked across the street and saw an apartment building about the same size as the retirement home. He walked across the street and entered the apartment building, climbing the steps until he found the door to the roof. He walked to the edge of the roof and opened his bag, taking out a black scope and setting it up.

He laid down on the roof and looked through the scope at each floor until he saw Valencia in her sundress sitting on the edge of a bed with an old woman. The old woman was obscured by the curtain, but he could make out Valencia holding her hand.

Bucky stayed on the roof for the entire day, waiting for the Valencia woman to leave. He passed the time by eating the fruit he had packed for himself and looking at the picture he had taken from that Brooklyn house.

As he was reading over Darla's letter for the umpteenth time, an excruciating pain stuck his head. He dropped the letter and held his head in his hands, his eyes snapping shut as a memory came to his mind.

"Jamie, this isn't even safe!" A pretty copper girl called to him, her dark brows furrowed. Snow was falling all around them, and some flakes were stuck to her long lashes. She was wearing a beige coat and a white scarf, while her hair was down and topped with a winter hat. She was chewing her plump lip nervously and looking down at the hill in front of them.

"Safe isn't fun, darlin'." He heard himself say, before a grin spread across his face. He was setting up a brown sleigh and his hands were almost unbearably cold. He had on a black coat with a button or two missing and a raggedy scarf his mother had made for him.

"It'll be fun!" He insisted, looking to the girl next to him once again. She looked up at him with uneasy eyes. He sighed and put the sleigh down, taking her gloved hands in his. "I won't let anything happen to ya, dimple. I swear."

Darla looked up at him and searched his eyes before nodding. He grinned at her and sat down on the sleigh. "You sit behind me and hold on real tight, darlin'."

The girl nodded behind him and he felt her press against his back, her arms clutching his body. He felt her cheek against his back and it made him shiver. "Alright, I'll go on the count a' three." He said, knowing he was fibbing. "One…" He started, "Two…" Before he uttered three, he pushed away from the hill and they went flying.

"Jamie!" He heard Darla scream from behind him, her grip growing tighter on him. He laughed and laughed at her, trying to maneuver the sleigh without being able to see that well.

As they neared the end of the hill, the sleigh slid over a rock hidden by the snow, making the two of them go flying off. He reached out his hand for her but he couldn't reach, the two of them falling too far apart.

Once they both landed in a flurry of snow, he got up and ran over to Darla, who was still on her back with her eyes fastened shut. He shook her, "Darla? Darla!"

Slowly, the girl's lids began to open, like she was a princess from some fairytale. She looked up at him with lidded eyes and blinked. "Let's do that again." She whispered, a smile slowly spreading over her face.

He laughed, a loud chortle and hugged her to him before pressing his lips against hers. "You're crazy, cook." His hand brushed against her cheek and she jumped.

"And you need ta' get some gloves, Jamie!"

Bucky breathed harshly through his mouth as his sight returned to him and the pained numbed. With every memory regained, it seemed like his brain wanted to rebel against them. He laid back on the roof and tried to catch his breath, relaying everything he had just learned to himself. He reached for his red journal in his bag, taking out a pen and writing his memory down.

She called him Jamie. He called her dimple. They kissed. Her eyes made him feel like butterflies were in his stomach. She was beautiful.

He swallowed thickly and looked through the scope again, seeing that Valencia was still in the room with Darla.

A few hours later, he saw the woman packing her things and kissing Darla on the cheek, before leaving the room. He packed his things as well, closing his bag and making sure his pictures and letters were in his jacket pocket. He left the roof and walked down the steps of the apartment building, waiting in the doorway.

He saw Valencia walked down the steps of the retirement home and began to walk the way to the metro station. He followed her.

She got on the same train home and he got on with her, sitting four seats away. She was on the phone again during the train ride, but she seemed to be talking to another woman, not Steve. As she stood for her stop, she was still on the phone, a scowl on her face.

He stood with her and walked after her. It was a ten minute walk from the train station to her home, there were only three traffic cameras on the way, and the security camera by her apartment doorway was fake. He watched her open the door with a code and walk up the single flight of steps up to her apartment.

He caught the door before it closed and slipped in, slowly padding up the stairs when he heard her voice in the hallway. The sound of a door opening was his cue to walk all the way up the stairs and down the hallway. The door was kicked shut and he was able to see her apartment number.

It was time for him to wait again, so he walked back down the stairs and settled behind them. After a while, the complex door was opened again and a kid carrying two bags of food walked through. "Apartment 2B." He read from a piece of paper before going to walk up the stairs.

That was the woman's apartment.

Bucky quietly rose and walked behind the boy, snatching him down the steps and punching him in the face, effectively knocking him out. He carried the boy down the steps and hid him behind the stairs, before taking the food and walking to the woman's apartment.

He knocked on the door and waited for her to answer, hearing the sounds of her footsteps nearing the door. He hid his face with his cap and put his head down. The door opened, "How much was it again?" She asked him as she reached over and grabbed a wallet.

He slightly raised his head and she looked up at him and froze. He watched her eyes widen and the expression on her face twist into one he knew all too well; fear. The short woman turned on her heel and ran, disappearing from his sight.

Bucky stepped into the apartment, closing the door behind him calmly and putting the bag down on her counter top. In an instant, she was in front of him again with a handgun, pointing it at him from a distance.

She was smart.

"What's your name?" She demanded of him, her brown eyes now hard and her jaw clenched.

He raised his hands in the air slowly, looking directly into her eyes. "I'm not here to hurt you." His voice sounded raspy to his own ears, for he had not spoken for awhile.

"What's your name?" The woman insisted through her teeth; she was afraid, that much he could see. He blinked as he realized what she was trying to do. He answered her, "James. James Barnes."

Instead of lowering her weapon, the woman tightened her grip, "Where did you grow up?" She questioned, her eyes begging for him to answer correctly.

"Brooklyn." Bucky replied, as if the information wasn't new to him. The woman kept with the questions, fortunately they were not anything out of his current memory.

Finally, he watched her nod and swallow, her breath coming out in little spurts. His gaze darted to her finger, it had moved from the trigger. "Do you know who I am?" She asked, her voice much smaller.

Bucky nodded, slightly twitching out of habit, "Valencia. You were with Steve on the bridge." He paused, "You and Steve are together." He watched her shoulders relax and she slowly lowered her gun, regarding him with wary eyes. He noticed she did not click the safety off just yet.

"Does he know you're here?" She questioned and he answered with a shake of his head. The woman digested his answer, taking her bottom lip between her teeth and chewing. He waited for her reaction with baited breath, ready to turn and leave at her word. She sighed, "If you were lying you would have disarmed me already." She finally muttered.

She was very, very smart; he deduced.

"I don't know how I can help you, though."

Bucky slowly, with as much care as he could, reached into his jacket pocket, his eyes not leaving the woman's. He pulled out the letter and his photostrip, then held them out to her, not wanting to scare her by approaching.

The woman furrowed her brows and padded up to the burly man, slowly taking the envelope from his hand. She eyed the address, her eyes widening. She chewed on her bottom lip, a habit he noticed she had, and took out the letter. Her eyes trailed down the paper once, twice, three times until her lip began to tremble.

He just stood there, his hands nervously tugging at the sleeves of his jacket. She looked up at him and he quickly averted his eyes, swallowing thickly.

"Why...you..." He heard her choke out, "You remember?" She whispered, almost inaudibly. She caught his gaze and he swallowed.

"I need your help." He mumbled out, his head down. The woman began to shake her head, her eyes wet, and he felt his stomach drop to his feet.

"Jamie," She started and his head whipped up in surprise. The woman bit her lip again, that was three times, he noted, and began again, "Bucky," She stressed his name, "I don't know how to help you. I'm not good at this kind of thing, maybe if we called Steve-!"

"No!" Bucky protested, taking a step towards her. He watched her grip tighten on her gun and he cleared his throat, twitching, "Please don't." He begged lowly, putting his head down and shaking it. "Please."

"Okay, okay." The woman said, "I won't. I promise."

"If you're worried about me hurting you," Bucky started, tugging at his sleeves, "I don't do that anymore."

"I'm not." The woman replied quickly, so quickly that he almost believed her. Almost.

He ignored her lie, instead continuing on, "I just need your help. I don't have anyone else…" He paused, looking down once more, "I don't have anyone to help me."

Footsteps sounded in front of him and he slowly looked up, his eyes widened a fraction when the woman put her hand on his right arm. He twitched away from the touch but she did not react, only smiling softly at him. "Hey," She chimed, her voice soothing, "We'll figure something out and I'll help in anyway I can. I promise."

Bucky searched the woman's face for a hint of deception, but he saw none. He looked down once more and nodded silently. She took a step away from him and grabbed her bags from her kitchen counter, "You can just stay here with me for as long as you want. Um, I only have one bedroom so you'll have to take the couch. There's towels in the bathroom if you wanted to shower and I have a washer and dryer over there so I can wash your clothes, if you want." She called from her place in the kitchen.

Bucky nodded to show that he heard her and moved toward the front door, walking out of the apartment. He trotted down the stairs, retrieved his duffle bag and walked back to the home. He shut the door behind himself and locked it. He put his bag down by the couch and walked into the bathroom, ignoring the woman's eyes as he shut the door.

On the lid of the toilet were a pair of sweatpants and a shirt, along with a large towel and a face towel. He turned the knob on the shower and water poured out of the large spout like rain. He stood in front of the sink, taking off his cap and running his hand through his tangled brown hair. His eyes looked back him and he blinked away from the sight.

Silently, he stripped himself of his worn, dirty clothing, then stood under the scalding hot water. He breathed out a sigh of relief, hanging his head down and letting the water incase him in heat. He looked on the shelf of the pristine white shower, seeing an array of soaps and hair products.

He squinted, smelling one of the soaps and grimacing; too sweet. He opened three more bottles before finding one that did not smell like flowers; the label read 'vanilla'. He lathered the soap up and scrubbed his skin. He then grabbed a random shampoo bottle and dumped it over his head, cleansing his strands. The water at his feet ran brown with how much dirt was being washed away from his body.

When he was cleaner than he had been in months, he turned the water off, wrapping a towel around himself. He dried his skin and his hair, though his damp strands still fell into his face. He blew them out of the way, but they flopped down defiantly. He wrapped the towel around his waist and frowned, before catching sight of a rubber band on the sink. He snatched it and gathered his hair at a small ponytail at the back of his head. He dressed himself in the clothes the woman left for him, before folding his towel and putting it in the laundry basket under the sink.

He gathered his dirty clothes in his hands and opened the door, feeling the cool air hit his body. The woman was rushing toward him all at once, snatching the clothes from his hands and disappearing past the kitchen. He blinked and walked to the couch, where she had laid blankets down and outfitted the cushions with pillows.

She walked back into his view as the rumbling sound of a washing machine echoed through the apartment. "If you don't mind," She started, leaning against the couch, "I would like to start this whole journey thing tomorrow." He blinked at her and nodded, to which she smiled. "Great. Feel free to eat something, after all I got it for free." She finished with a wink as she walked towards another door, which he guessed led to her bedroom, "Good night." She chimed and he heard her door close; he also heard the click of a lock.

Bucky blinked again, unlocking his bag and taking out his journal. He rose from the sofa and walked into the kitchen, fixing a plate with some of the woman's food. He sat down at her dining table and began to eat, opening his journal to her page.

He wrote one word next to her name; kind.


	3. Through the Summer and the Fall

_Through the summer and the fall_

 _We had each other that was all_

 _Just she and I together_

 _Like it was meant to be_

Bucky's eyes snapped opened before the sun rose, and he propped himself up on the couch, his head whipping around. He began to panic; he did not recognize his surroundings. He ran a hand through his hair that had sprung free from its elastic and sat up further, reaching into his bag and yanking his journal out. He breathed harshly through his mouth as he frantically tried to find the last page he had written.

'Found Valencia. Staying at her house. She's kind.'

He blinked and sat the journal down with shaking hands. He put his head in his hands and concentrated on his breathing and relaying thoughts to himself. After a moment, he was calm. He laid back down on the couch, pulling his blanket over himself. He stared up at the stark white ceiling and willed himself to go back to sleep, but like most nights, he had already gotten his fill. Usually, he could only sleep for a few hours at a time without waking up. It seemed to be a side effect of the years he spent frozen.

The sound of the bedroom door opening made him close his eyes. Light foot falls padded behind the sofa and to the kitchen, and the refrigerator door was opened.

A raspy voiced mumbled out incoherent phrases, as things were moved around in the fridge. An item was selected and the sound of a water bottle opening followed behind the fridge closing. The footsteps came towards him but stopped behind the couch.

Bucky feigned sleep with such ease, his breaths deepening automatically. A shuffle sounded from above him and he felt the blanket that was bunched at his waist be pulled up to his shoulder.

"Sleep tight, Jamie." The woman's voice rasped lowly and her footsteps got farther away until the sound of the door closing halted them.

Bucky's eyes snapped open and he turned on his back, staring up at into the darkness. Why does she call him that? Is it out of habit? Does Darla refer to him as that so much, she thinks she can? He doesn't think he likes it; though it did sound familiar to him.

He wondered if Darla would like a girl calling him Jamie? Would she be upset? He doesn't think she would be. Though there was that time on Coney Island…

Bucky furrowed his brows; where did that come from? Coney Island? His eyes snapped shut as a memory revealed itself in his mind.

Oh.

If it were another time, Darla wouldn't like Valencia calling him Jamie.

Soon enough, the time on the clock read 4:56 and the sun was about to rise. Bucky got up from the couch and folded his blanket, neatly placing it over the back. He walked to the window of the apartment and opened it, climbing on to the fire escape. He moved up the ladder until he reached the roof, sitting on the edge as the sun began to peek over the horizon.

He liked to watch sunrises and sunsets. They reminded him of her, though before he knew there was a her, he watched them because they were the only thing that stayed the same for the decades he had been alive.

"Oh Jamie," a voice next to him sighed, "This is beautiful." He looked over to his side to see Darla looking over the horizon. Her face was glowing by the sun's setting rays and her eyes were wide. She was wearing a pretty red dress, so pretty it made her beauty outshine that of the sun.

"Pretty as a picture."

Bucky blinked, looking around his surroundings once more. The sun was now high in the sky, as he had gotten lost in his thoughts. He wiped the lone tear that fell from one of his eyes and climbed off the roof, going down the fire escape. He slipped back in the apartment window, landing on his feet and silently closing it. He softly padded to the couch and sat down, taking out his journal and writing the memory down.

The bedroom door opened behind him and Valencia walked out, speaking to someone on the phone. "Well you have to be patient with her, Nat. She's not trained, she can't just pick up on things like we do." Her voice was exasperated, and he continued to write as he listened.

Valencia clicked her teeth as the light in the kitchen was turned on, "The problem is you're too rough! Now I leave for a second and all of a sudden all hell breaks loose!" She sighed heavily, "You know what? Do whatever you want, I'm on vacation." The phone was slammed down on the counter and another sigh was heard.

The phone rang once more and it was answered with a snap, "What?" followed by a, "Steven…" The woman then walked out of the kitchen and back in her room, sparing him a glance on the couch.

Bucky looked up, seeing the Valencia had closed her bedroom door. She was obviously talking to Steve and she did not want him to hear. He quietly rose from the couch and moved over to her bedroom door, listening to her speak.

"Wanda's super sensitive! She can't be just hammered down like a nail, you have to be gentle with her. What? Yeah, just tell Nat to back off a bit." A pause, a voice coming through the receiver, "Everything else is fine. Darla's wonderful. Oh, and she gave me her recipe book yesterday!" A pause, "Apparently the pie I made her was up to par. She said-!" She stopped, seemingly interrupted by the captain on the other line.

Suddenly, the door opened, without any sound of footsteps and she was in front of him. His eyes widened just a tad but she did not look angry, instead she pressed her phone and lifted it up for him to hear.

"-I think I have a lead on him. One of Sam's sources says he has been spotted in New York. I think he's starting to remember, Lena."

"Maybe." The small woman replied, glancing at Bucky worriedly. "Have you had anyone to scope out the area? I don't want to put doubt in you Cap, but this has happened before."

"But in Brooklyn?" Steve countered quickly, "I don't think so. I think this is the real thing."

Bucky watched the woman chew on her lip nervously, though her tone stayed the same. She was smart. "Okay, but you meet him and then what?" She questioned, looking away from Bucky, "Steve there are people looking for him with intentions not as kind as yours, you finding him could put him in danger. I understand you need your friend, I do, but we need to think about this."

There was a long pause and Valencia closed her eyes. He did not even hear her breathing. Finally, after a minute, she weakly muttered, "Steve?"

"I thought you would understand."

Valencia finally exhaled and her face fell, she glanced up at Bucky before turning her back to him, pressing her phone and taking it off speaker, "Steve-!" The door was softly closed and he frowned at it. He took a step closer to listen before deciding against it, moving away from the door and sitting on the couch to wait for her.

Ten minutes later, Valencia was walking out of her room with a somber expression. When he looked at her over the couch, she managed a smile.

"He's headed to Brooklyn so I don't think he knows you're here, James." She slightly hesitated when she said his name, he wondered why but did not voice it. He just nodded to her.

Bucky hesitated himself before asking, "How long have you two…" He paused not finding the word.

"A year and some months." Valencia answered without care, she poured herself some milk from the carton and put it back in the fridge, "When you saw us on the bridge we had just met." He nodded, not asking her anymore about it. "D'you want breakfast? I make a mean omelette."

Without turning to her and he nodded again, opening his journal and writing what she just told him down. Soon the sound of a skillet sizzling and eggs cracking echoed through the apartment. Valencia hummed when she cooked, he thinks Darla did too.

A click was heard and then low music began to play from the kitchen. He ignored it, writing in his journal. The little woman was noisey, her voice didn't seem to belong in her body. But he could drone her out, he had dealt with worse.

"Wapapadodo wapadodo wapapado dadada." A voice crooned from the radio. Bucky's hand paused and he froze.

"Stars shining bright above you. Night breezes seem to whisper, I love you. Birds singing in the sycamore tree. Dream a little dream of me! Say nighty night and kiss me, just hold me tight and tell me you'll miss me-!"

Bucky was suddenly not in the large apartment in DC; he was back on the streets of Brooklyn. Darla was in front of him singing instead of the radio, "Dream a little dream of me!" Her smile was so bright and he felt so warmed by it, like she was the sun. She was so happy and he felt happy too.

"Stars fading but I linger on dear, just craving your kiss. I'm longing to linger 'till dawn dear, just saying this." It was still Darla's voice, but it was deeper and he wasn't outside anymore, he was in that small apartment he barely remembers.

Darla was in front of him now, a white nightgown on her body and her hair down. Her eyes were shining still, though they weren't as bright. She was in his arms, standing on his feet as they swayed together. Something was wrong.

"Sweet dreams 'till sunbeams find you. Sweet dreams and leave all worries behind you, but in your dreams whatever they may be." She sung to him, clinging to every word like it was keeping her alive.

"Dream a little dream of me." He heard himself finish the song, though he doesn't know how he knew the words. He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers, his body warming again.

Darla smiled up at him, bright as the sun, until it faltered and her eyes filled with tears. Why was she crying? Had he done something wrong? He wrapped his arms around her and she sobbed into his chest.

"She was gonna be so pretty…" The copper girl muttered, "Everytime I see her face I think of yours."

"James? James!" He was brought out of his memory by a worried woman. Her hands were on his face, why was she touching him? She wasn't Darla. He yanked away from her and looked around in bewilderment, trying to remember where he was. He began to panic, his heartbeat speeding up and his breath becoming frantic. He gripped his head in his hands and clutched his eyes closed, rocking back and forth. "Where am I? Where am I?"

"Hey, hey!" He heard the woman's voice from far away. "I need you to listen to me, please, listen to me!"

He just shook his head, his hands moving from his head to grip his knees. He clenched his jaw and tried to breath but he felt as if he couldn't get enough air in his lungs.

"James, I need you to count backwards from ten. Outloud. Can you do that for me?"

"I can't breathe." He managed through his teeth. He heard her again, "I know, but just try please."

"Ten." He muttered, his whole body locking up, "Nine. Eight. Seven. Six." He paused, his throat opening, "Five. Four. Three. Two. One." When he got to one the grip he had on his knees wasn't as tight and he his breath was coming out easier.

"Good." He heard the woman's voice, a little closer than before. "Can you tell me your name?" She asked quietly.

He nodded, exhaling harshly. "James Buchanan Barnes." He answered surely, his eyes still closed tight.

"Good." The woman praised, her voice guiding him back like a light through a tunnel. "Can you tell me what year it is?"

Bucky wracked his brain for an answer, starting to get angry at himself for not knowing. His brow furrowed and his breathing picked up again. "Hey," He heard, further away than the last time. He felt hands on his fists, "It's okay." She cooed, "It's alright. Do you know where you are?"

His brow furrowed again and he clasped the hands on top of his. He didn't understand. "With you…?" He answered, uncertain. He expected her to laugh at him but she didn't.

"Good." She praised after a moment, "And what's my name?"

"Valencia." Bucky muttered, waiting for her to praise him once more.

"That's very good, James." Valencia spoke, her voice still soft.

Bucky slowly opened his eyes and was faced with a worried bronzed face and big brown eyes. She looked like a child, a baby that was helping him through a panic attack. He blinked and felt the tears on his face for the first time. He removed one of his hands from hers and wiped his face.

"James," Valencia started, her voice still soft. Her hand squeezed his slightly, "It's 2015, your in my apartment in DC, and people call you 'Bucky'."

Bucky blinked and nodded, his eyes now on his lap. "I'm sorry." He muttered.

"Hey," She called, putting a hand on his knee, "You're fine, it's okay." Valencia removed her hands from him and smiled, standing up from the ground. He gripped her arm before she could leave.

"I remembered something." Bucky whispered, watching her brow furrow. She sat next to him on the couch and waited patiently for him to continue. "Did... " He swallowed, biting his lip, "Did Darla and I have a baby?"

Valencia froze, he saw it with his own eyes and she chewed on her lip. She looked away from his eyes and nodded, her voice as quiet as a mouse as she responded, "She died at birth."

Bucky frowned and looked forward, his jaw clenching. His began to cry again, though this time the sobs were silent. "I'm sorry." Valencia choked out, but her voice was far away again. His head rolled to the side and fell on her shoulder as a pain filled grimace took over his face. He faintly heard her sigh above him and he felt a hand caress his cheek.

"It's okay." She uttered and he cried harder, burying his face in her chest and wrapping his arms around her. The woman being only a placeholder for who he really needed to embrace; and Valencia understood that, more than he would ever know.

Valencia Renee was kind, kinder than so many other people he had met during his decades. He didn't know that this kind of thing is just what Valencia did. She was maternal, she was always taking care of someone or something; she was like Darla in that aspect. It wasn't even odd to her that she had just met this man and he was crying on her. She had cried on Steve within days of knowing him and besides, with all the stories, she felt like she had known Bucky for years.

"Can we start tomorrow?" He croaked out, his throat dry.

"Yeah," She nodded above him, patting his head, "We can start tomorrow."


End file.
